Snow Day
by DeniseV
Summary: An unexpected late winter snow fall changes the plans of the Seven and the residents of Four Corners, at least for a few days.


"Ain't nothin' much to watch for, I don't know what the bill deal is," J.D. Dunne said as he continued to munch on the tasty candied nuts that had been left for everyone to try by one Ezra P. Standish, who just happened to be the topic of discussion at the moment.

"Bill deal? What the hell is a 'bill deal'?" Buck Wilmington asked his young friend, followed by a hearty laugh as Chris Larabee seethed over near the window.

"Bill deal? What are you talkin' about, Buck?" J.D. asked. The sheriff was concentrating far more on his enjoyment of the pecan praline treat that their southern friend had ordered from Georgia than he was on what he was saying. He had just come off of patrol, after all. He was hungry!

"You just said it!"

J.D. waved his hand at his exasperating friend. "No I didn't. I asked Chris what the _big_ _deal_ was."

"J.D.," Chris growled in return.

"Now, Chris, I think the kid has a point, about the big deal, not the bill deal." J.D. punched Buck in the shoulder. "Ow!"

"I could give a shit right now about J.D.'s point," Chris shot back, followed by another look out the jailhouse window, and then by a long draw from his coffee cup. "He was supposed to be here … " Chris paused and looked toward the vest pocket that held Buck's timepiece.

Buck pulled out the pocket watch. "Fifteen minutes."

"Damn it. What the hell!"

"Chris," J.D. said calmly in an effort to soothe his boss' ire. "It's snowin'. You know how it gets around here when it snows."

"He's due for patrol," the leader of the law enforcers now commonly known as 'The Magnificent Seven' said, as though that was all that need be said on the topic.

"And he'll be mindin' a dead town," Buck said.

"I don't mind goin' out again, check around here in town. I'm sure Ez'll be here by then," J.D. offered. He could never understand why Chris seemed to go overboard about Ezra being on time. Hell, J.D. couldn't _ever_ remember the gambler being there right on the dot when it was time for his shift. Chris should have gotten used to it by now. Or maybe he needed to schedule Ez a half an hour earlier from now on. Hey! Now _that's_ an idea … but based on the look on Chris' face, he'd offer that idea up some other time.

Chris looked from the shorter, dark-haired man and then over to the taller one. He shook his head, looked his long-time friend in the eye and said, "Buck, ya came to me just two days ago complaining that Ezra was late for his shift."

"Well he was," Buck answered, blinking his blue eyes and flashing a smile.

"And you were stompin' around, annoyed as hell. How was that any different than this?" Hell, being in charge of these men shouldn't be so much like managing an unruly band of children.

"Well, old dog, I'll tell ya. I had a date. J.D. here ain't got nothin' planned."

"Hey!" J.D. objected.

"You got somethin' ta do?" Buck asked.

"No," J.D. replied. "But I could."

"But you don't."

"No."

"See?" Buck asked, sounding just like a ten year old. Chris wanted to punch him.

"That don't mean nothin' to me, Buck. Ezra's late. He's always … "

"Not … " J.D. said, in an effort to defend his tardy friend, but the Larabee glare effectively put an end to _that_ effort.

" … late, and I ain't gonna stand for it anymore," Chris finished.

"Is that so?"

"Buck," Chris threw back in warning.

"No, really, I'd like to know what you're gonna do. I mean, what if he's out having snowball fights with the kids?" All three men looked stunned. Shit, that's what he was doing … that was _exactly_ what he was doing, they all knew it. Their resident professional gambler – one Ezra Standish – had a soft spot for children. And the children of Four Corners knew they had a like-minded soul in Ezra. He treated them with respect, handled them deftly when trouble seemed to lurk, and showed them love when their parents were, for whatever reason, and there were many reasons in the difficult lives lead in their frontier town, either not willing or not able to show it themselves.

"Hell," Chris said knowingly.

"That's right. He made that promise."

"I think we all remember now, J.D.," Buck said softly. The ladies man looked to his friend and said, "It's probably safe to postpone patrol for this afternoon, dontcha think?"

"I forgot."

"We all did," Buck reminded him.

"I'll bet Vin didn't," J.D. said sadly.

"Vin don't forget nothin'," Buck shot back, somewhat annoyed.

"Buck, Vin ain't never gonna forget _that_."

"It was a joke, Chris."

"Well, that may be, but I figure you're damned lucky he only chooses one day a month to get back at ya. If you'd done that to me … ." Chris watched his friend shiver at the thought. They shared a smile and then Chris said, "Let's go track 'em down."

The three peacekeepers left the empty jail, once they'd gotten as bundled up as they could, and headed over to the saloon. Inez Recillos was the most likely of anyone to know where the lawman was.

"Mr. Larabee!" they heard. The snow was falling lightly at the moment as it continued to blanket the town. There was already about ten inches on the ground, a lot of snow for the area in one storm, and the skies and the chill assured everyone that the winter precipitation would not be ending for some time. But even in winter they had far more sun than snow, so when they did get any, those who enjoyed it needed to get out in it before the sun and the general dryness of the high desert quickly evaporated it all away.

Little did they know until last winter, their second together, that Ezra – the man who hated the cold, the southern gentleman more accustomed to the heat and humidity of the South – was a different man, make that child, when there was any decent accumulation of the white stuff … so long as he was in town and not caught in it out on the trail.

"Mr. Larabee!" They all turned to see Gloria Potter racing to catch up with them.

"Slow down, Mrs. Potter. This snow can be slippery," J.D. warned worriedly.

"Oh, thank you for your concern, J.D., but as you can see," she said as she lifted up her skirt and then raised the sole of her shoe for inspection, "I am prepared for the weather."

"Well ain't that clever," Buck said as he offered his hand to steady the storeowner and took a closer look at the contraption on Gloria's boot. The owner of the general store had a metal rig attached with spikes sticking out from the bottom. "You could hurt a person with that thing."

Gloria smiled at Buck. "You see that you watch yourself, then," she joked.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a charming smile.

"What do you need, Gloria?" Chris asked as he watched the fat snowflakes land on her hat.

"It's pretty, isn't it, all this white? It makes everything so clean-looking," she added.

Chris smiled, however reluctantly. No, not reluctantly, more like in spite of himself. And there was nothing wrong with that.

"Anyway," Gloria said, realizing that she was not likely to get an answer to her question from Chris other than the smile, "these are for you and the others," she said as she handed over a cloth sack. "They're scarves," she said, "warm ones," she added as she looked disapprovingly at Buck's large, lavender-colored cotton kerchief. "It would do you all good to bundle up better when it's cold out."

"Thank you, Gloria," Chris said as he took the bag.

"You're welcome, of course. The difference you men have made to the town … I just couldn't say enough what it means to me."

None of the peacekeepers had really known Gloria Potter's husband before he'd been shot in cold blood by Lucas James. Some of them who'd been in town long enough – Nathan, Josiah when he was around, Vin his first week in Four Corners -had made purchases at the store, but more often than not it was Gloria they saw as her husband manned the stock room and made deliveries to folks on the outskirts of town. It seemed that the mercantile was a joint effort on the part of the Potters. And as the men watched Gloria take over all of the duties of running a business and raising her children, they knew that they had to do whatever they could to make her efforts, and Mary Travis' … all of the families who chose to be in this small western town, hard-working families who chose to raise a family and to build a community … worth those efforts, and to give these children a chance to grow up in a town where a man did not risk his life simply because he showed up for work.

"Thanks, Mrs. Potter," J.D. said.

"Could you take Mr. Standish's to him over in the field near the church?"

"Is that where he is?" Chris questioned.

"Yes," she replied, a toothy smile adorning her face. "He came around, already had a sizable group of children with him, picked up my two and then marched them down the street, regaling them with a story."

"How'd we miss that?" Buck asked.

"I don't think he wanted you to hear," Gloria noted seriously. "He was talking quietly to them out on the boardwalk, and then he walked them across the avenue to the other side." Chris glanced to Buck. 'Probably wanted to keep me from makin' a scene,' Chris thought. Though a little out of practice, Buck was easily able to see the thought in his friend's countenance. "You probably heard the children but didn't realize Mr. Standish was with them," Gloria continued. "There truly is nothing quite like the sound of so many children laughing and giggling."

Buck noticed the sad look ghost over Chris' face, but it was gone before J.D. or Gloria saw it. Buck had been sure his friend would never truly get over the loss of his family, but the man had made a lot of progress these last three years, enough progress that he could say with a smile, "Can't argue with you there." So said the man whose only son had been taken from him in such a violent manner so many years ago. "Which scarf is for Ezra?" Chris asked, as though the previous comments wouldn't have torn his heart right out … in another time, in another place.

"You'll know when you see it," she said with a twinkle in her eye and a laugh in her voice. "You should be able to figure out who belongs to which scarf. They were made with each of you in mind."

"That's right thoughtful, Gloria," Buck said.

Chris lifted the bag up and down. "Seems too heavy for just scarves."

"Oh, I've put some snacks in there for you boys, too. Well, I've got to get back, pies in the oven, you know," she said as she turned to leave.

"Gloria, you are an angel," Buck called.

"Oh, Buck," she returned, waving her hand dismissively, "you say that to all the girls," she joked as she sped up her pace to get out of the cold and the snow.

"No I don't," he said softly, certainly not loud enough for Gloria Potter to hear. Beauty had always been an important factor for Buck Wilmington; Gloria's more matronly good looks were never the kind of looks that attracted the renowned Lothario. Lately, though, other qualities were seeming as, if not more, important in the measure he took of the ladies.

As the saloon loomed before them, Chris said, "Buck, go on in and get a bottle and some glasses before we head over. We'll need something to warm us, besides Gloria's scarves," he said with a smirk, "and if Ezra's been out in this for a while, he's going to need a drink pretty bad."

"Be right back," the lanky lawman said.

Chris and J.D. waited on the boardwalk for their friend. They knew he wouldn't be back too fast … Inez was in there, after all, and Buck was still Buck. They listened to the quiet of the snowy day, but both realized almost immediately that it wasn't really all that quiet. The street was mostly empty, but screams and laughter could be heard down at the end of town near the church. They smiled, and Chris shook his head and then lowered it. J.D. knew what his boss was thinking about, and left him to his silent memories. A long minute later, the young sheriff spotted Mary Travis heading out of the newspaper office. As she made her way across the street and closer to the saloon entrance, she saw the two men and joined them.

"Good morning, Mary," J.D. said as he offered his hand to help her up the two steps to the saloon's covered boardwalk.

"Thank you, J.D. And it's afternoon."

Of course it was. That's what all of Chris' grumbling had been about, Ezra missing his noontime shift. "Yeah, I guess it is. It's easy to lose track of the time with no sun."

"That's true." She looked from one man to the other and asked, "Isn't it warmer inside?"

Chris remained silent as the younger man answered, "We're just waitin' on Buck and then headin' over to the church."

"The church?" the pretty woman asked.

"Yeah," Chris finally spoke. "Apparently Ezra's playin' Pied Piper with the kids."

"Are you inferring that my son is a rat, Mr. Larabee?"

"Well, um … n … no. That's not what I meant." He looked quizzically at Mary and said, "Didn't the Pied Piper lure kids?"

"In some incarnations, yes. But most of those tales didn't turn out so well for the children. But if you mean that Ezra Standish is a charismatic person who can attract a legion of followers, then today that seems the very definition of him," she offered, her eyes reflecting the enjoyment she'd found in making Chris squirm, even if only a little.

"Then that's what I meant," Chris said with a sly smile. Mary smiled warmly back. It was nice to see the feared Chris Larabee relaxed and without that seemingly ever-present scowl. In fact, the 'ever-present' aspect of that familiar scowl had been missing for some months now.

"Why are you going to the church? Does Ezra have patrol?" she asked, disappointment in her expression and in her voice.

"No. No patrols today. Just checking in to watch him fulfill that promise he made."

"Promise?" Mary questioned as she bundled up.

"Let's step inside," Chris suggested.

"You remember the promise from last winter, dontcha Mary?" J.D. asked.

"From Ezra?"

Seeing the confusion from the normally well-informed newspaper woman, J.D. nodded. "That's right. She wasn't here," he said to Chris. "Remember, Chris, Ezra came and asked where Billy was?"

"That's right. You and Billy were visiting with the judge when he fell," Chris remembered.

"Oh. When he fell in that storm," Mary said. She laughed sadly. "Anybody not from here would say that he was accident prone."

"Don't know about that," the tall blond countered. "I think he just attacks everything he does. Whether it's poker, or keeping from getting his hands dirty, or putting himself in jeopardy for us, for other people in the town … for the kids." It was when Chris talked like this, as rare as it was, that Mary understood her attraction to the man. He hid this side of himself far too much, though it did seem that lately she'd seen glimmers of this Chris Larabee much more often than the dark, brooding one.

"Yeah, and we say 'when he fell' just to get his goat," J.D. explained. "He didn't really fall."

"What exactly happened? By the time Billy and I got back, he was doing better, recuperating in his room."

"Yeah, but he had those awful dizzy spells for weeks."

"I remember, J.D. And we all had to coax him at mealtime because if he got dizzy after he ate, the food rarely stayed down," Mary said, her tone radiating compassion for their resident gambler.

"I got it!" Buck said happily. "Oh, hi Mary," he added as he tried to hide the bottle of whiskey behind his back.

"Nice try, Buck. I am sure Ezra and Josiah will appreciate it," Mary said knowingly.

"Josiah's with him?" J.D. asked.

"Yes. It seems he gathered up every child in town, and then enlisted Josiah's help in keeping them warm and dry. They're using the church and giving them hot cider and drying their gloves and hats by the stove."

"Ezra's got it all figured out, don't he?" Buck said admiringly.

"So, you were going to explain what happened last year?"

Buck's smile dropped from his face. They easily could have lost Ezra that day, or on those first few dreadful days following.

"He did much like what he did today, gathered up all the kids and went to take them to play in that big snowfall, just after the new year," Chris started. "He took them to behind the grain exchange, there's always a big pile-up of snow, with the wind blowin' it up against the back. They hardly got started before a big sheet of snow fell from the roof. Ezra saw it happen and called to the kids to get them to move farther from the building where they would all be safe. All of them left but little Joey Mitchell."

J.D. took up the story from there. "The other kids said Joey was standing and watching the snowflakes land on his hand. He didn't hear Ezra's call. And Ezra saw that an even bigger sheet of snow was ready to fall on the little boy, so he ran to him, knocked him to the ground and covered him with his body."

"I remember Elizabeth telling me that Ezra had saved her son's life."

"Yeah, but it wasn't just snow that came off that roof," Buck said, taking his turn in recounting the events of last winter. "The weight of the snow knocked the weathervane down, too. Knocked poor Ez on the head."

"He was unconscious for near twenty-four hours," J.D. recalled.

"Nathan was real worried," Buck continued. "Ezra finally woke up and Nathan got some water into 'im, which he hardly got down before it came back up. He gave 'im some more just before Ezra fell unconscious again for another half a day. Took almost four days before ol' Ez could stay awake for longer than ten minutes."

"My goodness. I had no idea. He never said … "

"You know Ezra, Mary. He's not gonna say," Chris said, knowing that the gambler lived with the fact that too many people knew his business, especially when he was incapacitated for some reason. He lived with it, even accepted it, but he certainly didn't like it. And he definitely wasn't going to do anything to encourage it.

"I know, but none of you said anything, either. Or Inez or Gloria."

"It's not really our place."

"Like Chris said," Buck interjected, "I expect everyone who knows him and cares about him knows that he'd rather people not be talking about him when he can't be there to defend what's bein' said. If Ezra wants to stay quiet on it, then we have to follow his wishes."

"And I guess I do, too."

"I reckon Inez or Gloria would've told ya 'bout it, but they, and you, were all pretty busy tryin' to keep all them kids away from him, give him a chance to heal."

"And don't think that wasn't a hard job, Buck. These children love him. I hope he knows that."

"He does," Chris said.

"And remember, right after you got back, we had that visit from the new territorial governor," J.D. reminded everyone. Buck smiled sadly at the reminder. He'd renewed his affair with Louisa Perkins, who remained a political vagabond, but now worked for a far better man than she had two years before. She blew into town for a short thirty-six hours that second time, and he'd not heard from her since.

"That's true. I was distracted, but I should have asked … " Mary said sorrowfully, not finishing the thought.

"I wouldn't worry about that. Ezra wouldn't want you to," Chris advised. "How 'bout we get over there and see what's goin' on?" They started to walk out but J.D. stopped them.

"Hey, let's get our scarves out. I know I could use mine," he said as he started pulling the wool scarves from the bag. He held the bag while Buck placed the bottle and shot glasses, well-wrapped by Inez, into the bottom of the cloth sack.

Buck snorted. "Well, Gloria was right. I think this one belongs to Ezra." Chris and J.D. laughed, as did Mary, affectionately.

"That one's mine," J.D. said, not needing to see the others to know it was true. It was a tweed design with several different shades of brown and tan that would match either one of the two suits he wore most often.

"It looks great, J.D.," the newspaper woman said.

"Thanks, Mary."

"This one's for you, Chris." Buck handed Chris a mostly black creation. But it wasn't only black, strands of gray and white could be seen as well.

"Why's it so soft? I don't own nothin' wool that's this soft." Mary reached over, ran her hands over it, and then nodded.

"It's cashmere."

"Cajmeer?" J.D. asked as they continued their walk toward the church. "It's not wool? It's warm like wool."

"It's wool. It's just from a special kind of goat with a soft undercoat," Mary explained.

"Isn't that supposed to be expensive?" Buck asked.

"Yes, it is. I suspect Gloria had some help in paying for this yarn," Mary agreed. Chris and Mary shared a look, coming to the same conclusion about who was the likely cashmere benefactor in their small town.

"Buck, this one's yours."

"That's right pretty, ain't it, kid?" the tall gunman said as he wrapped the scarf around his neck with an extravagant swoosh.

"It suits you," J.D. answered sarcastically.

"I like it," Buck retorted defensively. "What color would you call it?" he asked all of his companions as he petted the one end of the scarf that lay on his chest.

"I'd say it's coral, and it does suit you, Buck," Mary said, raising her eyebrow at J.D. when he looked at her questioningly. He could read the rebuke in her eyes, and then nodded his head as he looked at Buck all dolled up, a shake of the head and a smile the concession that he had spoken out of turn.

"This one must be Josiah's. Looks like that cross at that old mission in Santa Fe," Chris said. Judge Orin Travis' wife, along with an insistent Josiah, had convinced Chris to join them at the old mission church on a visit they'd made to the more established western town back in the summer. "Colors are good; it'll go great with that coat of his."

"And then this one is Nathan's," Buck said. "Nice."

"Where's Vin's?" J.D. asked.

"Look," Chris suggested as the tracker and the gambler – and their teams – bombarded each other with snowballs. It was evident that Ezra had made some perfect strikes; Vin's long, wavy hair was wet and stringy, his hide coat now darkened with dampness from the icy projectiles, as was the new scarf that adorned his neck. Ezra looked to be in a similarly soaked state.

"Think we ought to get _all_ of these 'children' to take a break?" Buck asked as he casually handed Chris the bag, who took it easily, and then reached down for a handful of snow.

"I hope you know what you're doin' with that," Chris warned as he handed the bag over to J.D.

Buck's blue eyes glinted with mischief, his moustache wiggled into place as a huge smile lit up his face, obvious outward manifestations of the new game afoot. "Oh, I know what I'm doin', pard," he said as he threw the snowball smack dab in the middle of the forehead of the leader of The Magnificent Seven. Both men's grins grew huge as Chris made his own snowball and chased after his oldest friend. The two long-legged men ran about, Buck pretending – for the amusement of the real children … and the adult ones – to remain only a half a step ahead of the seemingly no longer fearsome former gunslinger.

Mary looked at J.D., who had groaned – out loud – at being left holding the bag. She doubted he realized what he'd done. She turned away from him, briefly, to hide her laugh, and then quickly composed herself.

"Shall I hold on to that?" she asked.

He nearly dropped the bag in the snow in his enthusiasm to get out there and play, though the well-honed reflexes of a mother with a young son kicked in to prevent it. "Thanks, Mary!" he called as he turned, and then changed to back-pedal towards the snowy battle going on behind him, wanting to tip his hat in thanks at Mary's kind offer. For her part, Mary scanned the crowd to find Billy, not completely wet and with as big of a silly grin on his face, relatively-speaking, as she now saw on Chris, Buck, J.D., Vin and Ezra. The pretty town leader decided to let them all play a few more minutes, but they were all caught up in the fun and likely didn't realize how soaked they were, and they were growing wetter by the second. She walked up the steps of the church and was greeted by Josiah and Nathan.

"Mrs. Travis, good day to you on this glorious, wintery afternoon," Josiah said, followed by a tip of his hat. The snow was coming down more steady now, though one would almost never know it considering the mess that had been made of it in the immediate area.

"Josiah. Nathan."

"Howdy, Mrs. Travis. A lot of snow, isn't it?" Nathan asked.

"It is," Mary agreed.

"And pretty," Josiah added.

"It is," Mary echoed her previous answer.

"Reckon it's time to bring everyone in to dry off."

"Looks like they're running out of ammunition anyway, Josiah," Nathan said.

"Before you go out in this again, Gloria Potter made these for you," she said as she handed over the two scarves. "Oh, it seems that she sent along some other things as well." She took a whiff of what smelled like Gloria's famous cranberry scones, and something peach for Ezra.

"A woman after my own heart," Josiah said as he smelled the contents, placing his right hand over his heart as he said it. He looked inside to see other goodies definitely _not_ from Gloria Potter. He placed the bag on a ledge just inside the main door of the church. "Nathan, that's a fine-looking scarf."

"Mrs. Potter made this?" the former slave asked. Mary nodded her head in the affirmative. "But the pattern, where did she … "

"She received a book recently that had some beautiful examples of textiles from all over the world. She copied one from Africa. I don't know where in Africa … "

"No, I didn't mean nothin' by it. It's just … it reminds me so much of my momma … "

"It's right handsome, Nathan," Josiah said as he laid a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Mine is beautiful, too. And soft."

"It's cashmere," Mary said.

"Ah, that would explain it. I don't suppose Ezra had anything to do with attaining such fine yarn," the former preacher suggested as he pulled Ezra's out and looked at it closely.

"Those gold threads aren't cashmere," Nathan said with decided amusement.

"Certainly not," Mary agreed slyly.

"Are those little things around the edge … "

"Yes they are, Nathan. Until you are right on top of it you can't really tell, it just looks like a design detail."

"But Ezra probably designed it himself," the healer said. He looked at his scarf once more and smiled, and then added, "He probably had a hand in all of them."

"Well, that's something you can discuss with him when he comes inside to warm up and dry off," Mary said as she stepped from the church and headed toward her son. Nathan and Josiah followed, heading for Ezra and Vin; the two had been out in the cold, wet snow for nearly two hours playing with each group of children sent by the two older, and obviously wiser men, who had remained warm and dry inside the church.

"All right boys and girls," Josiah announced with friendly authority.

"That includes you big boys, too," Nathan said to his wet peacekeeping brethren.

"What about J.D.? He don't really qualify as big," Buck said through panting breaths.

"Hey!" the youngest of their team replied as he reached for another handful of snow. He ran after his best friend, who had already begun to run behind the church in order to save himself.

Ezra and Vin, who were both more than ready for a break, gathered all of the children and, with an occasional 'Aw, do we have to?' and 'I'm not cold!' or 'Can't we stay out a little longer?', managed to corral them all and began helping everyone out of their wet outer garments. Chris followed along with Mary and Billy.

"What about Buck and J.D.?" Nathan asked.

"They're both grown men," Josiah replied as he got to work divesting the children of their winter vestments.

"Since when?" Vin asked, at the same time as Ezra offered, "How evah did Ah miss that?" Those that got the joke – all of the adults and many of the older kids – laughed heartily, and that laughter spread to the little ones, who weren't exactly sure what was so funny, but were happy enough to treat everyone to the shrieks and giggles of happy children.

It was a beautiful noise as it echoed throughout their community church.

Minor coughs and sniffles could be heard, typical of hard play on a cold day, as Nathan made his way around, assuring that no one had overdone it. Mary, Chris and Josiah started handing out cups of warm cider.

"You all right?" Nathan asked Ezra as he finished his first circuit around the room.

"Of course."

"You're sure?"

Ezra was overcome – beyond words – by the warmth of Nathan's concern. They'd had such a tumultuous relationship that first year in Four Corners. But the trials of nurturing their friendship had done what everyone _but_ the two of them both thought … dare hoped that it would: built a foundation of strength for their bonds of brotherhood, hardened by the difficult, circuitous path they took to get there. Whereas each other man had developed friendships with every one of their law enforcement partners – even, almost as reluctantly, between Chris and Ezra – it had seemed for the longest time that what separated the two southerners would forever be stronger than what bound them, even after three years of working together. It took Ezra and Nathan longer to get there, but they knew now the strength of their friendship after fighting so hard to attain it, though they both knew that they never would have gotten to this point without their other friends guiding them along the rocky path.

"Ah do appreciate your concern, Mistah Jackson, but Ah have been careful. Ah even wore this revoltin' excuse for a scarf to keep mah neck protected." He coughed at the end of his speech. "Of course, what protected me from the cold has certainly carved an indentation in mah neck that will take days to heal." Nathan smiled. The one true thing that he knew about Ezra was that it was when he complained the most that the healer knew he had nothing to worry about. Ezra coughed again. "Ah am fine," he reiterated, holding up his hand. "It is just somewhat smoky in heah with the damp wood."

"That'll clear out in a minute," Chris assured him. "Here," he added, handing Ezra the scarf from Gloria.

"Ah,exquisite. Gloria Potter is an amazin' woman." Chris stared at the gambler as he placed the scarf properly around his neck, the scarf with the ace of spades ornamentation and the gold thread mixed in with the red black and green plaid. Ezra sighed at the feel, closing his eyes at the pleasure of it. When he opened his eyes he found Chris still staring at him. "What?' he asked.

"You paid for these scarves." It was a statement, not a question.

Ezra cocked his head. "You gentlemen would not have purchased something so fine for yourselves, and as Ah had procured Missus Potter's fine knittin' skills for mah own benefit, it seemed an appropriate next step to assure the warmth and comfort of mah compatriots."

"It was right nice of ya, Ez," Vin said as he sat on the pew next to the poker player. "Mine is real … special." The tracker had told the gambler that the thoughtfulness in the gesture had warmed his heart. He didn't want to make his friend uncomfortable by echoing the sentiment to the others, so he went for the lesser but still meaningful descriptive. Ezra had enlisted Vin's assistance in the effort to assure that the children had a good time in the snow, but he'd sent him first over to Gloria's, knowing that she had finished the former bounty hunter's warm neck ware … and that he would need it this day.

"Can I see?" Chris asked.

"Sher." Vin had the handmade garment hanging loosely across his shoulders. He pulled it off and gave it to Chris to inspect. "It's the image of an eagle soarin' in the clouds. You can just barely make it out."

"I can see it. It's beautiful."

"Yeah," Vin said, his eyes sparkling with happiness, for this moment, and for so many others like it that he'd shared with these men; for his luck in finding such comfort, for having brothers who meant the world to him. "Hey Ez, you want a cup o' cider?"

"If that is all that we have … " he answered with a silent sigh … and a noticeable pout.

"It ain't. Vin, go find Mary," Chris instructed. "Tell her we'd all like something to drink that _ain't_ cider." Vin jumped at the errand and Chris turned to Ezra.

"You came up with all the designs for these," he said as he waived the edge of his scarf at his friend. "That was awful nice and real talented of ya."

Ezra frowned. "Chris, are you sayin' you did not believe Ah had it in me?"

"No, that ain't what I'm sayin'. I'm askin' where you found the time. Best I can figure, you only do three things in life: sleep, play poker and patrol. In between, you eat, drink, take more baths than anybody I know – including any woman – and sometimes fight and shoot people."

"Is that last point not part and parcel of patrollin' our fair burg?"

"Not always. I guess I should add the time you spend with the kids to that list."

"I guess so," Ezra replied dryly. "It seems you have mah life heah all rather dully committed on a scrap of paper. Oh, wait, make that in two unimaginative sentences; no need to put pen to paper for such a trifle. How flatterin'."

"This isn't coming out the way I want it. I ain't tryin' to be critical."

"It simply comes out that way naturally, then." This time it was from Ezra: a statement, not a question.

"Shit. No. This isn't … look, I'm sorry if I offended you. What you did today, for the kids … it was really nice. Special, thoughtful. You're a good man, Ezra. I was just curious, I guess, about when you could have come up with these plans. I mean, despite all evidence to the contrary, you do keep busy."

Ezra smiled at the joke. He liked to sleep in, it was true. But he stayed up later than most. Why was this such a conundrum for people?

"Would you believe me if Ah said they came to me in mah sleep?"

"Should I?"

Ezra snorted this time and wiped his thumb across his bottom lip as he lowered his head. He raised his eyes and said slyly, "No." Chris laughed this time. "You will not like what Ah have to say."

"And that would be different from any other day … exactly how?"

"Ah guess it wouldn't." Ezra smiled sheepishly.

"So?"

"So, Ah came up with the designs on patrol."

"On patrol?"

"Yes. You are aware Chaucer is a smooth ride."

"Yeah."

"And he knows the route."

"Yeah."

"So Ah sketched the designs in mah notebook, during daylight patrols only, of course."

"Ezra, you're supposed to be watching, looking out for trouble." Watching your own back, damn it, when we're not there to do it for you.

"And when was the last time we came upon trouble on a patrol, Chris?"

"That ain't the point. It's a preventative thing."

"It was mah desire to get these scarves knitted for each of us, to keep us healthy while we are out on these god-forsaken … Ah mean, preventative patrols."

Chris stared, but did not glare, at his very annoying friend, the owner of the blisteringly precise tongue. "Can you please not do that anymore?"

"Not do what anymore?"

"Daydream. Design scarves. Whatever." Ezra stared back at the blond gunman. And they stayed like that for some time. 'What was taking Mary so long?' Chris thought. Finally, Chris asked, "Well?"

"Well, Chris, all Ah can do is promise to try not to … daydream, as you call it. Or whatever."

Chris shook his head. "That's about all I can ask, I guess. Thank you."

"Tell me, Mistah Larabee, while on patrol, would a person be allowed to sing? Or whistle? Or perchance, play the harmonica, atrociously?"

"I heard that, Ezra!" Vin called as he approached with their stronger libation.

Ezra nodded his head to the Texan and smiled as he accepted the shot glass handed to him. "What about tell a joke when on patrol with a partner, also atrociously. Would all of these things, if done with the appropriate enthusiasm due each activity, also affect the positive nature of our preventative patrols?"

"Shut up, Ezra."

"That's not nice, Mister Chris. Mom says you shouldn't say that to people."

Ezra watched as Chris squirmed; he figured it was just as well that the con man didn't know it was for the second time that day. The gunslinger picked up the little boy and set him on his knee.

"Your mother's right, Billy. You shouldn't say it that way," Chris said. Ezra read between the lines, knowing that the leader of their group would come up with another way of telling him the same thing, somehow. Ezra might be known as the wordsmith in their group, but Chris was no slouch in finding … creative ways to express himself, though for something like this he'd probably just be more careful in the future watching for young ears milling about.

"Then shouldn't you say you're sorry to Mr. Ezra?"

Ezra sent a definitive 'cat that got the cream' look to his friend. Chris rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I should. Ezra, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted, Chris."

"Mr. J.D.!" Billy yelled as he jumped from Chris' lap and greeted the sheriff as he and Buck finally made it inside.

"Did you enjoy that, Ezra?"

"Immensely."

Both men turned to see Buck and J.D. heading their way. J.D. took a seat in the pew behind them as Buck walked around the back of the church and slid into the same row from the other side.

"Great idea there, Ezra!" he said as he placed a handful of cold, melting snow down the con man's collar.

Ezra closed his eyes and hissed, but remained calm as he said, "Mistah Wilmington, you will live to regret that."

"First Vin, now Ezra. I don't know, Buck. Seems you just keep askin' for it."

"Hey, Ez knows I didn't mean nothin' by it. It was just for fun," Buck defended as he tried to justify the prank.

Ezra stood to leave and let out a painful-sounding cough. They all watched as Nathan stood, towering over those around him, to look their way.

"Buck, you will rue this day if Ah have Nathan houndin' me for the foreseeable future." Ezra turned away from Buck, who now seemed decidedly unnerved at the prospect of both Vin and Ezra gunning for him, and gave Chris, J.D. and Vin a satisfied wink. "For now, let us remove these children to their homes for rest and nourishment. We have one more surprise to prepare for them."

* * *

><p>"Very well, children, did you all enjoy a good rest?" Screams of 'yes' and 'yeah' and other sounds that happy children make floated loudly through the air. "It will be dark soon, so let us hurry to see your surprise." The snow had remained steady, allowing for an even more impressive display than Ezra could have hoped for.<p>

After Ezra's accident the previous year, Josiah, J.D., Vin and Yosemite had made a point of checking the roofs of all of the buildings in town. A fair number of cupolas and weathervanes needed reinforcement. So when Ezra suggested the plan for the next several hours, it wasn't the safety of the area behind the grain exchange that anyone objected to. The point about remaining out in the snow for several hours, though, had been roundly dismissed, until the moment over a quick lunch at the saloon when Ezra brought out the drawing of their venture. The grumblings had started as Ezra spoke, but all moaning and groaning about the cold and the wet stopped almost immediately at the unveiling of the sketch that Ezra had made. There wasn't a man amongst them, or within the group of other locals who heard what was planned, who could say no to Ezra Standish now. This would be a special treat for the kids, even if it did only last for a day or two. The stamp of approval from Inez Recillos was witnessed by all: a huge slice of Gloria's peach pie was set before him by the lovely Mexican senorita, followed by a kiss on the cheek, which was immediately followed by a sigh and a roll of the eyes from Buck ... and raised eyebrows from the rest of the Seven.

A decided buzz could be heard and felt throughout the long line of children, their parents and the men who had toiled in the cold and the snow these last hours as they made their way from the rendezvous spot in front of Gloria Potter's store and over to their final destination. The mothers, and some fathers, were all smiles as they watched their children, children giddy with anticipation of what the gambling man had in store for them.

"Now remember, children, there shall be no time spent here without the direct supervision of at least one adult," Ezra said as they all made the turn to go behind the exchange building. A meekly asked question had Gloria Potter's young son heard answering.

"Mr. Standish meant that we can't play back here unless one of our parents or another adult that we trust is with us."

"That is well put and exactly right, Master Potter," Ezra said, the compliment causing the young man to stand taller before their very eyes.

"Look!" a child screamed. Gasps and shrieks, of 'Oooh' and 'Ah' and 'What is it?' could be heard amongst the children, from the youngest toddler to the oldest teen.

And from mothers, including Mary Travis.

"You finished this in three hours?" she asked in awe.

"We had a lot of help," Chris returned, clearly pleased with her reaction.

Ezra gathered the children close. "This, as some of you may know, is an igloo. The native peoples of the Arctic region, up near the North Pole … "

"Where Santa Claus lives?" one little girl asked, her face the very picture of wonder.

"Yes, indeed, Miss Betsy, where the jolly old fellow lives. Now, our igloo is a little bit smaller than most, but it has a far grander entrance. It also has a front door and a back door. And through that back door you will find a short tunnel of snow that will take you to something special at the end." The igloo part was just as one might expect, though small. The low entrance was framed, however, by a tall, square arch, much like the wooden ones that graced the entrances to many of the ranches, both large and small, that dotted the landscape in and around Four Corners. Along the top, indented or, more precisely, carved into the face was writ in elegant script:

**Four Corners Igloo**

"This is a magnificent surprise," Gloria Potter said, wiping away a stray tear.

"Ez had himself a whole year to figure all this out," Buck said, clearly proud of the work they'd all done, more proud of his friend for making it happen. "But he had to throw this all together pretty fast once he realized we had a real snow storm."

"Goodness, yes, I remember last year. My children were heartbroken," the general store owner said.

"Ezra was, too. He was upset for a real long time that he couldn't give the kids what he promised," Josiah added. And to think last year all he had wanted to do was throw snowballs with the kids.

"Oh, no, Josiah. They weren't concerned about that. I hadn't seen my children hurt like that since we lost their father. No, they weren't upset because they lost out on having fun. They were upset because they couldn't bear the thought of losing their friend. I dried a lot of tears – theirs and mine – over those first days after the accident."

"Ezra means a lot to many of us," Mary said, agreeing with her friend as she pulled her in for a loving embrace.

"It's funny," Vin said softly. "You'd never know how he was with kids by lookin' on 'im, first glance an' all."

"That's purposeful, with people he doesn't know," Mary suggested, though it had been obvious from the start – at the Seminole village – that the man had an affinity for kids. It wasn't news, his careful way with things personal; they all knew the familiar defense mechanism of one Ezra P. Standish. Now. It had taken a while, quite a while, for his friends, and the townsfolk with whom he was closest, to master their way around those defensive barriers.

"He's still hard ta figure out a lot of the time," J.D. said in concerned frustration.

"That's all right, kid. We're chippin' away at it," Buck returned as he toppled the young easterner's hat from his head. J.D. just shook his head and picked up his hat from the ground once more.

Ezra walked up to them, breathing heavily and sweating just a little.

"Ah have taken the first group through. Robert and Abigail Merton are manning … " A quizzical look came over his face as he followed hesitantly with, " … and woman-ing … the first half hour as monitors, though many parents seem intent to just remain and watch the phenomenon unfold."

"An igloo?" Mary asked.

"Not just an igloo, Mrs. Travis, but an igloo … " he started, followed by the clearing of his throat, " … but an igloo with a grand entrance and a tunnel at the end. Ah have long been fascinated by the ice homes. Amazin' how warm they can be inside," he added as he took his handkerchief out and wiped his face down.

Nathan stepped up. "You feelin' all right?" he asked as he put his hand on Ezra's forehead. The con man rolled his eyes, eliciting laughs from all around.

"Ah am cold," he said, though he knew the healer must have felt the perspiration on his face, "though overworked and somewhat tired. And Ah spent a longer time inside with little Joey. It seems bein' back heah reminded him too much of last yeah." Nathan frowned, noticing the accent growing thicker. Ezra noticed the healer's reaction and scowled back at him, eliciting giggles from the children who were facing him. Nathan switched to a scowl of his own, bringing on his own guffaws from the other side of the room.

And then Ezra stuck his tongue out at him, ending their '_conversation'_ and bringing the entire room to roars of laughter.

"Poor little boy. Is he all right?" Mary asked. She knew from Joey's mother that the child had been plagued with nightmares after what had happened last year. It pained her heart to think that the boy still suffered from the terrifying events of that day. She was all too familiar with what it was like to bring a child out of a near catatonic state, paralyzed fear. But Billy had made it back, and she knew that Joey would be fine, with the love of his parents and the people of this town. And a certain gambling man who had gambled on this town after those first thirty days. They had all won when they found that Ezra was still here on that thirty-first day.

Ezra yawned. "Mah apologies," he said, covering his mouth quickly with his gloved hand. Ah b'lieve he is fine, it was a momentary fright. He is with his mothah and fathah and smilin' at his … surprise." Now Mary saw it, not just Nathan: it was a sign that everyone had learned, a sign of how the gambler was fairing, when Ezra's southern accent grew thicker. No one missed it this time, least of all the town's healer; the lazy enunciation bringing renewed interest to Nathan in the con man's well-being.

"You should get inside and rest," Nathan advised. "Don't want you comin' down with … "

"No need to waste your breath. Your directive is precisely in line with mah intentions, Nathan," Ezra said, followed by a slight cough.

"Good."

Ezra smiled and then turned to Chris. "Mistah Larabee, would you and Missus Travis mind figurin' out who will monitor for the rest of the day?" There was only another hour and a half of daylight. "And could you please impress upon the parents that they must insist that their children remain away from the igloo through the nighttime hours."

"We won't have a lack of volunteers to help," Chris said.

"We'll talk to all of the parents before they leave," Mary added.

Ezra smiled his thanks, hopeful that forcing the two together, casually like this, might actually lead in the right direction of finally getting the pair together. He tipped his hat, said, "Ah am in your debt," and started to trudge to the saloon, his slower-than-normal stride evidence of his exhaustion.

"Hey, Ez!" Buck called.

"Yes, Mistah Wilmington," the card sharp answered tiredly as he turned back to face his friends.

"What's the surprise for the kids when they get through the tunnel?"

The card sharp had sent everyone away for a warming drink at the saloon as he put the finishing touches on the Arctic teepee. Among those finishing touches was the surprise he had announced would be there for all who made their way through the tunnel. The drifting of snow that was common behind the grain exchange had made it easier to form the higher parts of the packed snow structure, but it was still an effort for even an average-sized adult to make it through; Josiah, Nathan, Buck and Chris need not apply, though all four 'behemoths', as Ezra would describe them later, got on all fours anyway and crawled in to experience the inside of the igloo.

"That, Buck, will soon bcome evident," the sly gambler said with another tip of his hat. And as enigmatically as everything the man did, Ezra Standish retired for the day. His work was done. He looked across the avenue as he headed toward some well-earned time in his featherbed to see Jacob Mitchell carrying his young son on his shoulders and headed, with his wife, to their home. Little Joey giggled happily and held the object up toward the sky, just in front of where the sun worked tirelessly to shine through the thick cloud-covered, snowy day. The brief hint of sun made the item sparkle in his hand, but was quickly gone. In the end, it would be three days before it returned, plenty of time for the children of Four Corners to enjoy their special gift from the generous man. And though at the urging of their parents – or sometimes all on their own – the children of the town thanked the man who dressed so fancy, even if it wasn't Christmas or Easter, it wasn't those moments that made these days special to the southern gentleman. Rather, it was being witness to such joyful noise for those few days after, the screeches and cries of delight and the giggles and the laughter … and the occasional looks of sheer irritation those sounds brought to the faces of each of his compatriots, that made him so, _so_ grateful to still be one of The Magnificent Seven.

The End.


End file.
